


Sing With Me

by casbean



Series: Askbean Prompts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Askbox Fic, M/M, Oblivious Dean, Pining Castiel, Tumblr Prompt, songwriter duo, songwriter!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Love is… complicated.”</p><p>Dean flashes him his brightest smile.</p><p>“If love was easy, we’d be writing songs about better things. Like pizza.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from tumblr user @goodluckdetective : "If love was easy, we'd be writing songs about better things, like pizza."

“Come on, Cas, what’s going on with you? You’ve been down for months, you haven’t dated in ages. Every time someone says the word _love_ you flinch…”

Cas doesn’t lift his eyes from where he’s focused on tuning his guitar, but his jaw noticeably tightens.

“Love is… complicated.”

Dean flashes him his brightest smile.

“If love was easy, we’d be writing songs about better things. Like pizza.”

Cas shoots him a glare and sighs. “Yes, believe me, I know about your forever-and-ever, until-death-do-us-part, love for pizza.”

Dean frowns. Cas’ voice seems to contain more than his usual dose of wit and sarcasm. Like he’s actually angry about Dean’s feelings for pizza. How can anyone be angry about pizza?

They’ve been a rather successful singer-songwriter duos for almost five years now. While they haven’t achieved the fame of Simon & Garfunkel yet, it pays the bills and Dean thinks they’re pretty damn good. It helps that they’re friends and that they enjoy each other’s company, and that they’re damn good at composing songs together. Especially love songs.

But lately Cas has been really moody whenever the subject has come up, and his attitude is starting to piss Dean off, too. Cas has been working on a song by himself, which they don’t usually do, and he refuses to show it to Dean. He also gets really annoyed every time the subject of love comes up between them - which it does often since it’s what they write about all the time.

They don’t say anything to each other as Cas finishes tuning up his guitar, and after rehearsing for a couple of hours they each go their separate way, Dean with a heavier heart than usual. He doesn’t like seeing Cas in a bad mood.

 

A month later, Dean opens the door to his apartment with a gigantic lump in his throat. Things have only been getting worse. In a weird way, he feels like he was in a relationship with Cas without knowing it. And he feels like Cas is about to break up with him - except he can’t bring himself to do it, so Dean has to be the one to make the final cut. Because the band, and their music, is suffering.

Cas has been pulling away. Writing songs on his own, refusing to share them with Dean, when usually they share everything. He’s been distracted during rehearsals (when he showed up at all) and their chemistry has been completely off. They haven’t been able to perform songs they’ve been singing together for years and it’s been so frustrating they’ve screamed at each other and left slamming doors. Dean doesn’t know what to do. Every time he tries to talk to Cas lately, Cas shuts him off or runs away. It just feels like he doesn’t want to be there.

“Cas,” he says, and Cas barely looks up from the couch where he just sat down. His eyes are dark, cloudy. He still looks beautiful in his navy shirt. (To be fair, he always looks stunning.)

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean sits and Cas stares at the empty spot next to him. They used to look at each other all the time, it was their thing, on and off stage. Long, wistful stares… But now Cas never looks him in the eyes anymore. Dean misses it. He misses how Cas’ eyes contain all the shades of blue in the world, and seem to change according to his mood, from dark and stormy ocean to clear as fresh pouring rain. Nothing is as soothing to Dean as getting lost into Cas’ eyes.

“Do you want to leave the band?”

The question drops like a bomb. Or that’s what it feels to Dean. He’s the one who says it, but it still hits him with such strength it’s hard to breathe. There wasn’t any point in postponing the obvious, though.

The worst part is the silence that comes afterwards, as Cas fixes the floor, hands crossed between his legs. Because that question sounded a lot like “do you want to leave me? do you want to leave _us_?” and if Cas was going to say no, he would have said it. But he’s not saying anything, so Dean closes his eyes and drops his head in his hands.

“Holy shit, Cas.”

“Dean…”

“Why? What happened? What - what did I _do_?”

Cas doesn’t say anything, but eventually he gets up and turns around, heading towards the door.

“Cas!”

Dean catches up to him in the hallway, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around. They’re face to face between the red walls when Dean finally manages speak.

“Why are you leaving me?”

Cas sighs and finally, for the first time in what feels like months, he looks at Dean directly. Sad irises drill directly into Dean’s soul and he feels himself shrinking under the melancholic stare.

“I’m not leaving you, Dean. We’re not a couple, we’re not in a relationship, despite…”

“Despite what?” Dean breathes out.

His eyes get lost somewhere around Cas’ lips. Suddenly faced with the thought of losing his best friend, losing the chance to see him every day, to work by his side and just be with him and share his heart with him every single day, Dean feels like he can’t stand on his legs. Besides his brother, Cas is the only family Dean has. But it's never felt the same way as Sam felt, because Cas is - Cas isn't his brother, he's his best friend. His soulmate.

“Nothing.”

“Cas, talk to me.”

Cas takes a deep breath and looks at Dean’s grip on his arm, seeming to evaluating his chances to escape before he yields.

“Dean, you love a lot of things. You love your car, you love pie, you love pizza, you love good shower, you love memory foam mattresses… But you don’t love me. Not in the way - Not in the way I -" Cas stops speaking, his eyes darting away from Dean's, who's heart is making thumping sounds against his ribcage. He can feel the vibration through all of his body. "And I - I’ve realized it’s too hard being so close to you, but so far from… what I want from you.”

“Oh.” Dean hears himself say.

Wait. Is that-? Does Cas-? Could he possibly-?

“Do you-?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Dean has heard Cas’ voice a million times. A voice so warm it rumbles like a big river, a river Dean would like to lay down next to and listen to to fall asleep every night. Sometimes he puts on the ones of their songs that Cas sings on his ipod before he goes to sleep, because his voice is so familiar and relaxing. He is used to that voice. But Dean never thought he'd ever hear those words, in that voice.

_Oh._

Dean’s world is crumbling around him, like the main city of an apocalypse movie. Cas holds his gaze for a few more seconds before he makes another attempt towards the door. Dean grabs his sleeve, feeling like his whole body is numb and his brain is on fire. This is so unfair.

“Can’t you just give me a freaking second to process this?” he croaks.

At least he was able to control his voice and not yell. But barely.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas replies quietly. “You don’t have anything to process. I know you. I - all those love song I’ve helped you write for those women, our fans, some of whom you’ve dated, I - I know you. You don’t-”

“Would you shut up for a minute and just-”

“Dean this is extremely humiliating and excruciating for me, so if you don’t mind…”

Dean breathes in, and out, and in, and out, holding on tighter on Cas’ arm. He’s trying to process as fast as possible but - so many emotions, so many feelings, so many thoughts, and so many years of all of that repressed, unknown, that he didn’t allow himself to feel for so many reasons. All those goddamn love songs that they wrote together, sitting side by side at a hundred tables, always with their arms pressed together and their heads knocking, exchanging smiles and gazes and… Those songs they sang, not looking out to the crowds or the producers but at each other, always.

Finally, Dean speaks.

“Yeah, you know me, Cas. You've helped me write like fifteen songs about a dude who fucked up because he couldn't figure out his own crap, because he was a blind moron, you should know I - I really suck at this. I just - I take a lot longer to get there.”

“You have a point.” Cas murmurs, his voice very small as he stubbornly looks down. “So what do you want from me?”

Dean gently drags him back until they’re facing each other again. Cas is frowning, brows meeting in a crunch above the bridge of his nose. Dean swears he always knew Cas was beautiful, always noticed it, always praised it is mind, but suddenly it’s flashing like a billion fucking light bulbs in his brain. How could he ever let those thoughts come and go without stopping to consider them?

The crescents of Cas’ lashes resting on his cheekbones, the vibrant colour of his lips, the rough texture of his stubble, the sharp angle of his jaw. Dean has seen him and admired him and wanted him for so long, and it’s hitting him with the strength of a freight train right about now.

“Can I just kiss you?” he asks.

Cas looks up, his eyes pale and hopeful. “Yes.”

So Dean does. And it’s perfect. Dean’s first instinct when he’s living something new is to think about a song he could write about it. But he doesn’t think there are words for how he feels when his lips meet Cas’ and his heart makes that gigantic leap in his chest, and his hands shake so much he needs to grab onto Cas’ jacket and they scramble on to each other, falling a little bit against the wall. He can’t even begin to think of a melody to go with the way he can feel Cas panting against him, and they’re both out of breath but they don’t want to stop because it feels too good yet it’s not enough, not at all.

“I love you,” Dean murmurs hastily between kisses. “I love you, more than memory foam mattress and more than shower pressure and much, much more than I love pizza.”

Cas smiles, all dimples and gums, and Dean swears he could crumble to the floor down right here and now.

“Even more than you love pie?”

“Let’s say it’s a close cut.”

Cas’ laugh resonates along the walls as Dean kisses the angel wings on the corner of his eyes, before guiding him back into the apartment. They’ve got some… work to do.


End file.
